


Temporary Fix

by Xaverri



Category: South Park
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not as angsty as it sounds, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaverri/pseuds/Xaverri
Summary: Kyle has learned to cope with his one-sided crush on his best friend Stan, but some nights he needs a little help falling asleep.





	Temporary Fix

It should have been perfect.

A holiday villa with nearly the entire original South Park gang, near a woodland town not too far off Denver. A week of hiking, cycling, climbing, rafting and in some cases, drinking and partying. Those 'cases' being Cartman, Clyde, Kenny, and Stan. They'd parted after dinner on the first day to prowl the small town, _hunting for babes_ , as Clyde called it, head-butting Stan with a sickening crack. God-damn football jocks and their obsessive gorilla-like displaying. Kyle is pretty sure that their coach has explicitly forbidden them from doing it without helmets, but apparently, the brain-damage has already set in, seeing as good advice never seems to stuck with those two.

Stan laughed it off, not even swaying or rubbing his head and Kyle doesn't know what's more annoying; the idiocy of his nonchalance, or that his sheer manliness makes Kyle more than a little hot under the collar.

Luckily the group is well-divided, so he ends up spending the evening playing Cards against Humanity in the presence of good company and fine wine. They laugh at how this makes them feel as if they're in their thirties, opposed to their early twenties, but as there is no Cartman to rile them up with offensive jabs, the humour flows pleasantly.

That is until it sours. Their lost sons come pouring in, drunk or high, or both, and succeeded in picking up some lost daughters along the way. One for each. Luckily, they keep to the living room, while Kyle & Co continue their card game at the spacious kitchen table, prevailing at being mostly unbothered by the random bursts of rancorous laughter spilling from the other room. 

At least, Kyle manages to make it seem that way. Or maybe he doesn't. Tweek is far too perceptive, and even more so obvious as he keeps stealing glances to where Kyle is holding his cards. Kyle laughs at the lamest jokes, smiles at the good stories shared, and shrugs off the piercing look the smaller boy gives him occasionally. At some point Craig nudges Tweek, a silent look shared, and Tweek finally gets off his back.

He's determined not to be the first, so is thankful when Token stands to stretch, announcing he's going to turn in. A smooth nod towards the living room, saying, "If possible, at least."

Kyle gets up too, and leaves the cleaning to Craig and Tweek to check on the others. They're sprawled out on the couches, watching something on the television that Kyle doesn't even bother figuring out. Cartman and his 'catch' have taken their leave already, Clyde and Kenny shamelessly warming up theirs, and Stan, Stan is just hanging back, with her draped all over him. He's lounging casually, taking in her affections as she traces the muscles of his chest, looking up at him wantonly making Kyle swallow the urge to puke. He wishes right there that Stan still had his childhood issues so she would've ran out screaming, and he didn't have to witness this cutesy mess and have it branded on his mind right before bed.

Stan spots him and nearly shoves the woman off him, "Hey Kyle! This is Kyle, he's my Super Best Friend."

Of course, he's drunk, but that doesn't stop Kyle from catching his rough embrace, laughing despite himself at how the much taller and heavier guy more so leans on him than hugs him.

"Get off, unclefucker."

"Hello Kyle," the woman smiles prettily, and Kyle knows he's being rude by not asking her name in return but he really couldn't care less. It's not like she'll be here come tomorrow or any day afterwards, if he knows how this goes. He opts to wave, giving her a small smile.

"Oh, Stanny, he's  _cute!_  I like him."

Kyle already hates the way she says his name.

"Why don't you join us, Kyle?"

He knows she just meant here, in the room, watching television, but Stan takes it a step further in his addled brain, "Hmmmnooo, he cannot, babe. You see he's actually gay!" He mocks-whispers this last part, as if it's a great big secret that only Stan is in on. Kyle is glad Cartman isn't around, and that Clyde is too deeply buried in the tits of his girl to notice the slip of mind. But even if Clyde would've given it any attention, Kyle probably couldn't give a shit at this point. He came out to his family ages ago. Kenny had guessed, a few years ago, and the only other one that deserved a personal outing had been Stan.

Kyle rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, letting Stan's slurred speech of "But it's like, totally okay, dude. You know I love you," wash off him. Annoyed with himself for not being able to cull his curiosity, -which is now fully sated and starting to overflow-, he peels Stan's arms gently off him and prods him towards the couch, "No, thanks,” he addresses the girl, "I'm off to sleep and the others as well. Would appreciate it if you guys could keep it down just a little."

Again, a blessing that Cartman isn't around. He receives smiles and nods, a thumbs-up from where Clyde is still stuffing his face with cleavage. He catches Kenny's eye briefly, a carefully-hidden concerned look in his bright blue eyes so he gives him a carefully-hidden shrug back.  _I'll be fine._

Except that he isn't. And he hates reminiscing this feeling. He hasn't gone out partying with Stan for a few years now, and tonight was a reminder as of the why's. It remains hurtful to see him throwing his love and body around so freely while Kyle is shivering for his truest attention in the background. He had resigned getting over this crush years ago, knowing how futile it was to keep hoping the longings would simply go away one day. As long as he was in Stan's presence his heart belonged to him, but even thinking of parting ways to try and overcome that one-sided bond hurt him more than the prospect of a future filled with pining. Out of the question.

All he can do now to get through this night and these emotions is to lay on his side, listen to music to pass the hours, stifle his tears and hope the rest of the week passes by without any more of these occurrences. 

A hand touching his shoulder shakes him from his deep thoughts, and he jerks up wildly, headphones falling off with the motion.

Kenny extracts his hand, "Sorry, dude," he whispers, "I knocked and called your name, but...," he gestures at Kyle's headphones.

"S'ok," Kyle mutters and lies back down with a huff. He feels Kenny crawl into the spacious bed behind him and snuggles back against him, Kenny draping his arm tight around his torso. Kyle doesn't need to ask why he's here, and Kenny doesn't need to ask why Kyle was crying; it's the result of a life-long friendship based on trust and experience. He breathes Kenny in deeply, pleased that he showered and brushed his teeth although  _he_  knows that  _Kenny_  knows that he has no business getting into bed with him reeking like skank, sex and whatever else he was on tonight.

Together they lay silent, listening to the muted music coming from Kyle's headphones now flat on his pillow. Another emo love song starts and Kyle feels his chest clenching, a sob escaping him.

 _I don't wanna sleep_    
_'Cause I've had enough_    
_Of the same ugly dream_    
_I just can't switch it off_

"Shhh," Kenny breathes against his neck, then places a few distracting bites there. It works, blood pumping, gathering to between his legs in an automatic and enthusiastic response to the familiar touch of Kenny's experienced lips on his skin. Kyle breathes deeply, now unrestricted by the previous heart-ache.

"Enough of that," Kenny mumbles, grabbing Kyle's phone to stop the music, "Bet I can make you sound better than that."

Kyle scoffs, "I swear, if you're going to make a euphemism on 'blowing my trumpet,' or something, I'm gonna kick you right out."

Kenny's lips curl into his skin, grin spreading along with the ideas Kyle knows are popping up in his head.

"Don't!" Kyle whispers warningly, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice at imagining the terrible puns his friend is undoubtedly coming up with.

"I'd never," Kenny huffs against him, then moves up slightly so he can whisper in his ear, "Sure you don't need me to tune your guitar? Pluck your strings? Shake your maracas? Sizzle your cymbals? Bone your trombone?"

Kyle attempts to groan, but can't help himself and ends up eloquently snorting in his hand, muffling the sounds of his laughter at the onslaught of cheesiness. He elbows Kenny in the side and drags his hand over his eyes, "Jesus fucking Christ, dude."

In the shadow that is Stan's absence, casting over his life, it's Kenny's light that never fails to keep him going in the right direction. Whether with laughter or other activities, his friend always succeeds at bringing a smile back on his face and his spirits lifted. He doesn't think he will ever be able to fully pay him back for every moment, preventing Kyle from going insane, all these years and it almost saddens him all over again.

"You love it, really," the lazy drawl tickles his ear, "But seriously, no pun intended, want me to blow you?"

"Fuck, yeah," Kyle's face grows hot, even more so when Kenny's lips start sucking on that sensitive spot behind his ear, "But, no wait," remembering his previous train of thought, "Let me blow you instead."

"Hmm, no can do," tip of his tongue licking his skin in quick rhythm, sending spikes of arousal through him, "Already had to entertain two ladies tonight, I'm all out of juice."

Kyle frowns, "Two? Who couldn't-? Did Clyde drink so much he started crying, again?"

"Hmm, nope."

Kenny is either more invested in turning Kyle into a hot mess -which happens to be working splendidly-, or he's reluctant to discuss further, which could mean only one thing; "Stan pussied out?"

His answer is another hum, kisses on his neck and shoulders intensifying. Kenny props himself up on one elbow, his free hand trailing down Kyle's stomach to teasingly stroke his hardened cock through his boxers. Despite the expert distractions, Kyle thinks of what would've made Stan not want to stick it into the pretty girl that he brought back with him. Would he have drank so much that he couldn't get it up? Was he done with mindless one-night-stands? Maybe Wendy had called? Perhaps Kyle's disapproving look had finally gotten through to him?

Kenny grabs his shoulder to push him on his back, tonguing his way up his neck, over his jaw to lick at the side of his mouth and Kyle's thoughts are halted when he turns his head into the kiss. Open-mouthed kisses, tongues briefly, sexily touching, sliding, then back to slick lips, ending with soft bites and sucks; if he was hard before, he's close to fainting now from the way his cock is straining to be touched properly. A soft whine escapes him when Kenny grabs him fully, the soft cloth of his boxers causing for an extra touch of delicious friction.

Kenny is the absolute best friend-with-benefits anyone could wish for, and Kyle is god-damned lucky to have him.

His arms at last decide to participate, grabbing the blond by the scruff of his neck to deepen the kiss, tongues battling for dominance in a war he knows he'll lose but never, ever without a fight. Just when he thinks he gains an advantage, Kenny moaning into his mouth, he pulls back to dive under the covers, wasting no time to drag Kyle's boxers down as he nips a one-way path down his chest in haste. Kyle only has a second to slap his hand in front of his mouth before his cock gets engulfed into the moist heat of Kenny's mouth, but he manages to mute a surprised expletive just in time.

All lingering thoughts of Stan's motivations and whereabouts are quite literally being sucked out of him at that point, and he doesn't need the visual reality of what's happening between his legs to help him along, the images on the back of his eyelids as clear as 4K quality from all their previous times. One hand goes down to grab the over-eager blond's locks, and with the way he's pushing his tongue hard along the vein under his cock, Kyle forgets to sulk on the fact that the hair between his fingers is golden-soft, and not rough-black as is his deepest longing.

It doesn't take long at all before he's choking out a warning, -not expecting Kenny to pull off him at all, but Kyle has been raised with polite manners after all-, before he spurts down the welcoming and warm throat. Kenny suckles as long as it takes for Kyle to go bone-dry and limp, then slides the softening cock out from between his lips and crawls back up the spent body below him. A few nips and kisses are strategically placed here and there, meant to make his skin tingle pleasantly, -fucking hell, he's a good lay-, before his head pops back out from the covers with that prize-winning smirk plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

"Cat got the cream?" Kyle pants.

He smacks his lips, then kisses the tips of his own fingers, mimicking a true connoisseur, "De-licious!"

Kyle hushes him, not even trying to keep his own dopey smile off his face after the treatment he received. He briefly wonders if the girls in Kenny's bed are wondering where the heck he wondered off to, or if he fucked them hard enough to have them passed out for the night. Knowing the blond's sex drive, he is edging towards the latter.

Kenny leans over him, elbows on either side of his head, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I underestimated myself."

"Perish the thought."

"No,  _seriouslah_ ," Kenny grinds his hips down, Kyle's eyes widening at the feel of his hardened cock on his own soft one. Kenny's pupils are nearly drowning out the blue of his irises, yet he still pulls off an innocent puppy-look, "Can I?"

"Aren't we cycling tomorrow?" Kyle looks pensive.

"I'll convince everyone to go climbing, instead?" Kenny looks hopeful.

"As long as you stop imitating fucking Cartman, sure." 

"But  _meeeem_ _!_ "

Kyle shoves against Kenny's chest, trying to flip him out of his bed but he came prepared and a wrestling match ensues. It's things like this, stupid things like being able to vent off all sorts and forms of frustration in such a carefree and comfortable way that makes Kyle wonder why he never fell in love with Kenny. But just as he cannot explain how he  _did_  fall in love with Stan, it's impossible to elaborate. Some things just are, or aren't, and he's glad that they passed that phase where he got hit with a sudden sense of fright when he realized that maybe Kenny loved  _him_  instead, and all he had done was take advantage of that. He figured out, back then, that it must be equally difficult and painful to tell a loved one you're  _not_  in love with them, as the other way around. He had to build up the courage for that talk for months, and when he finally grew a pair and asked Kenny to clarify their fooling around, the other had cooed at him with a sloppy smile.

_"Dude, I ship you and Stan so massively, the Ark of Noah pales in comparison."_

And then they had sex, and that was that.

Out of breath from his orgasm and, granted, no match for the lean-muscled, taller boy above him, Kyle has to begrudgingly admit defeat. Not that he actually wanted Kenny out of his bed, but that was beyond the point. Points were there to be made. He gives him his best glare, but it probably ends up more as a pout as Kenny aww's at him.

"Where's the lube?"

Kyle nods towards his nightstand, some of the first things he unpacked since they got there, knowing he'd quite possibly need Kenny's distractions this trip and despite Kenny's reluctance to accept favours he'd out-right refuse to have the other bring his own supplies. That said, he had his preferred brands as well, and they didn't come cheap.

Kyle studies Kenny while he tears open a package to wrap himself before his fingers get all slippery, and it strikes him how beautifully natural his practised movements are. When the people he knows and loves are in their element, their personality shines, something that Kyle adores to discover and examine. With Stan it's football; the way his appearance buffs up when he's out on the field in competitive play makes it even easier for Kyle to follow him from the bleachers, not that he'd ever had any issue with that in the first place, but then, and there, he's a beacon for all; teammates and spectators alike.

Kyle ponders on this; could Kenny's element  _actually_  be sex? Or more specifically, the art of performing it? Of unearthing his bed partner's desires, figuring out how to make them come so hard they end up with that look of surprised bewilderment on their faces, wondering what the heck just happened as they lie panting in its wake? Kyle smirks as he remembers that feeling well, and not just the first time but many times thereafter as Kenny skilfully uncovered kinks Kyle didn't even know he had, himself. As he looks at him now; cool, pleased confidence washing off him in warm waves, quirking a questioning eyebrow back at him while he drinks water from the glass on his nightstand, he concludes that it must be so. Kenny does it because it pleases him to please others, and it makes him shine just as football highlights Stan when he scores. A fleeting thought passes him; is there anything that makes Kyle shine, and would others bask in its radiance as he does in theirs?

"Dude."

"What?"

"Just pulling you back."

"Where was I?"

"Some place good and peaceful, and I liked it, but then you went all," Kenny scrunches up his face in what has to be a caricature of Kyle's thoughtful frown. Kyle scoffs, "T'was not that bad."

"Worse than my puns?"

"Nothing is that bad, Kenny."

"Lies. You love it."

"Fucking hell."

"Is there an instrument that you can stick your fingers in? Asking for a friend."

"Kenny, for fuck's sake, how are you even staying hard?"

"Percussionist's stamina, I  _do_  bang a lot."

Kyle goes to punch him, but he's faster, grabbing his wrist before he can lunge forward and pinning it down on the bed. Kenny dives down, quickly smothering Kyle's protests with his lips, grinning as he licks along his bottom one. Another frustrated groan, but it's without malice, and Kyle settles for the offered deal, kissing back hungrily when arousal hits him once more. Settling is good, he learned that from his pa.

Kenny prepares him, never stopping his addictively hot kisses all over Kyle's lips, jaw and neck while doing so. Sweat breaks out on Kyle's skin when he hits that spot that makes him gasp for air, and Kenny takes it as his cue.

"How do you want it?"

"However, really, I can't even think straight anymore."

"That's because you're gay."

"Kenny! Just-," Moses save him, he's definitely considering it, "Just... drum-stick it in me," he whisper-rushes the last part out.

For a few seconds Kenny just stares at him, slack-jawed, then he bursts out laughing so hard he falls off the bed, dragging the sheets with his plummet. Kyle bites his lip to prevent himself from laughing along, peeking over the edge of the bed at the naked guy rolling over the carpet, clutching his stomach.

Someone bangs against the wall on their left, "Shut the fuck up! Trying to sleep here!"

Craig or Clyde, hard to tell like this. Kenny is too far gone and Kyle couldn't care less; It doesn't happen as often as when they were younger, but it's not  _that_  odd to be hanging out in each other's room in the dead of night, laughing at stupid stuff. Kyle puts his chin on folded hands, fondly smiling down at where his friend is wiping his tears, mood sufficiently broken. Kyle doesn't mind, and is positive Kenny feels the same. It's not the first time it occurs and Kyle hopes it will not be the last, either. Sometimes this is all the boost he needs to climb out of the pit that his Super Best Friend's bluntness can accidentally shove him in.

Later, after apologizing to Craig through the wall, -Tweek started yelling along when Kenny kept bursting out in high-pitched giggles-, he finds himself back where they started, snuggling into the warm embrace the other so freely offers, but this time a happy smile is gracing Kyle's features, plus determination to have fun on this trip stamped on his mind. To hell with dumb crushes.

"He'll figure it out one day," Kenny's voice tickles the hairs at his nape pleasantly.

"Figure what out?"

"Himself, Kyle. It's, what, a month since you came out to him, yeah? This is Slowpoke Stan we're talking about. Right now, he's all: 'Durr, Kyle likes dicks, durr.' And somewhere this year it'll turn into: 'Durr, why does he like dick?' And that will develop into: 'Durr, maybe I could like dick, too.' To conclude into: 'Durr, I like Kyle's dick, durr.' You'll see, trust me, it's there, just hidden below layers of stupid. I see glimpses of it every day, like with that girl after you left. When it gets through that stone skull of him, I'll be there to nudge him the right way,  _your_  way, and then when you two fucking finally come together I'll be in the backyard setting off fireworks and drinking champagne to your good health and all the catch-up sex you'll be having."

Kyle feels his eyes water, but it's from a bittersweet outlook, not a desperate fantasy, because when Kenny describes it like that, in his stupidly genius way, Kyle believes it.

"Thanks," he breathes softly.

Kenny squeezes him, "Any time. Sweet dreams, Kite."

Kyle smiles, "Sweet dreams, Mysterion."

**Author's Note:**

> Song mentioned is "Sleep" by Royal Blood.


End file.
